


In the Dark of the Night

by days_of_storm



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dressing up for a case and overdoing it, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, John is more than turned on by that, M/M, Sherlock definitely knows how John would react but pretends that he would never have guessed, Sherlock is a sexy vampire, Two very horny men, the second part is just sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-01-16 10:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21269330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days_of_storm/pseuds/days_of_storm
Summary: A belated Halloween-themed fic.Sherlock is dressing up for a case and John has difficulties letting him go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A belated Halloween-themed fic.  
Sherlock is dressing up for a case and John has difficulties letting him go.

John had been certain that the man who had gone into the bedroom had been Sherlock. And he was certain that the man who came out, definitely and most certainly wasn’t. 

He stared at the spectral figure which had stopped in front of the fireplace, the flames creating an unnatural lustre on the skin of the almost naked man – or vampire, rather – in front of John. 

He swallowed very hard as his eyes moved down and then up again, attempting to take it all in while really only being able to focus on just how much skin Sherlock was showing and how the body paint he had applied drew attention to every muscle that stood out under his skin. He looked, for lack of a better term, chiselled. 

His feet were clad in black ankle boots that looked vintage but John couldn’t quite say why. They were definitely men’s shoes, but had a feminine touch to them. 

Once he managed to look up at Sherlock’s face, he was so surprised by the arousal it sparked in him that he moaned, loudly, and squirmed in his chair as if Sherlock had laid hands on him. Sherlock had applied eyeliner and mascara, accentuating the light blue of his eyes, making them stand out starkly in contrast. His lips were crimson and a drop of whatever substance he had used to tint them appeared to have trickled down from the left corner of his mouth. 

He had managed to accentuate his cheekbones and nose with makeup to elongate his face even more while his hair curled wetly around his head. The high collar of the cape he had draped around his shoulders was loosely closed below his clavicle, but because he had folded it back over his shoulders, it didn’t hide his body at all. 

Whatever it was that were supposed to resemble short trousers were closed with heavy looking brass buckles just below his navel and tailored like John imagined corsets used to be. They barely covered him and ended just below his crotch, yet left enough room to look comfortable. 

John realised he had been staring straight at Sherlock’s middle for some time now when Sherlock waved a hand in his line of sight to catch his attention. John wasn’t sure whether he did that on purpose, but he was sure his voice had changed, too, and had become even lower and yet languid, as if he wasn’t really interested in talking at all, and now had all the time in the world to do it anyway. 

“What do you think?” 

John had stared at his mouth and at the last word, he was sure he caught a glimpse of two elongated, pointed teeth. Unsurprisingly and yet completely uncalled for, John imagined kissing him and then he imagined Sherlock’s lips closing around his cock, aware of the potential pain the teeth could cause. 

“Fuck me!” was all John managed and Sherlock’s eyebrow rose. 

“John!” Sherlock suddenly sounded like his old self again and even though John was a little disappointed, he was glad for it, because he was sure that at some point, he would grow light-headed if he continued staring at the vision in front of him. 

“I mean it,” he huffed and squeezed himself in his jeans, grunting in surprise at how hard he was. 

Sherlock sighed and cocked his head. “I don’t have time. The party starts in half an hour.”

“You can’t go like this!” John shook his head, imagining anyone laying eyes on Sherlock like this. He would never make it back home. 

“You know that I have to. I know Jack O’Connell is going to be there. I fit his profile.”

“You fit everybody’s profile!” John squirmed again, trying to make himself more comfortable but knowing that he would have to take off his jeans for that. 

“So, I look good?” Sherlock asked, looking down on himself. 

“Fuck, Sherlock. I mean it. You can’t go out like this.”

“Why not? It’s Halloween. I’ll blend right in.”

“No, you are not going to blend in.”

“You’re understandably partial,” Sherlock suggested and John laughed out loud. 

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?”

“Yes, I have. I will wear the cape and my coat on the way there and only take it off once I am there, alright?”

John looked him up and down again and was delighted to see that Sherlock’s excuse for shorts was less roomy than it had initially been. Then he realised that maybe Sherlock had factored this in and he felt even more certain that Sherlock shouldn’t ever leave the house looking like this and especially not if he planned on seducing a serial killer. 

“Take it off,” John nodded at his chest and Sherlock unclasped the cape. It silkily slid to the floor, making John wonder how it felt against Sherlock’s naked skin. He moaned again and Sherlock’s eyes narrowed, doing nothing but to add to John’s state of desperate arousal. 

“Turn around,” he whispered hoarsely, and Sherlock did as he was asked. How he had managed to add body paint to his back would forever remain a mystery to John, but he had accentuated his shoulder blades while shimmery powder led a bright path from his neck along his spine all the way to the high-waisted pants. 

The fabric hugged his arse perfectly, and John realised that Sherlock must have had this piece tailored specifically for him. 

“It’s not fair!” John decided when Sherlock turned around again to wait for his judgement. 

“Few things in life are,” Sherlock offered, but he did not sound like his arrogant self. 

“What if he murders you?”

“He won’t. He never kills them on the first date.”

“What if you are the exception?”

“John. Don’t worry. He doesn’t divert.”

“You cannot know that. He hasn’t met you yet.”

Sherlock smiled widely, showing off his fangs and John whimpered. Then Sherlock’s hand slid down his body and into the pants and John was sure he would come just from watching Sherlock like this. When he withdrew his hand, he held a small blade in his hand. “I’m not defenceless.”

“You’ve been drugged by your adversaries several times,” John found that despite the arousal, Sherlock’s safety was still a priority to him. 

“Again, he never drugged his victims. He bound them, and they let him, willingly. Then he killed them.”

“It’s so fucked up,” John inhaled shakily. “They trust him so completely and he does that to them.”

“Which means that he won’t divert from his usual practice. There’s a system in place and he will follow his own rules.”

“Can’t you be less sexy?” John pleaded, still convinced that nobody else should get to see him like this. 

“It’s just tonight. I won’t be wearing this the next time I meet him.”

“I don’t want you to meet him,” John said passionately, finding the strength to stand up. “I want you to call Lestrade and drop the case.”

Sherlock sighed. “I’m sorry, John. More people will die if I don’t go. You know that.”

“I do and I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do care,” Sherlock gently touched his face, and John leaned against his hand. 

“Come back quickly?”

“I promise.”

“Don’t take any risks.”

“You know me.”

“Exactly.”

“Fair enough,” Sherlock grinned and leaned down to carefully kiss John. John moaned into the kiss, and his tongue sought out Sherlock’s teeth. When Sherlock very gently bit John’s lower lip and pulled, John came apart. He clasped Sherlock’s arm and held on tightly until he had calmed down again, careful not to smear his makeup, despite it all. 

“Fuck!” John said passionately once he stepped back, looking down on himself. His jeans slowly darkened with moisture. 

“I honestly did not consider the effect this costume would have on you,” Sherlock attempted to apologise but John simply laughed. “At least you know now. So please hurry up!”

Sherlock stood rooted to the spot for a few more moments before he gracefully squatted down to pick up his cape and equally gracefully rose and closed it again.

“One more request,” John said as he turned to go. “Don’t let anyone touch you.”

Sherlock smirked and licked his lips. “I can’t make any promises.”


	2. In the Dark of the Night - Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, several people asked for a sequel, and what better time than Easter to write Halloween themed smut :p 
> 
> This is basically just porn. But, it's what Sherlock was asking for, dressing up like he did in the first place, wasn't it?!

John was awake at the sound of the door downstairs closing. The familiar creak on the seventh step indicated that Sherlock hoped he would still be up. He only ever stepped on it when he wanted to be noticed, or when he was drunk. John exhaled and rubbed his eyes. The latter was, in fact, the more likely possibility. 

He got up from the couch, where he had fallen asleep a while ago, imagining all kinds of scenarios in which Sherlock was either killed in the most gruesome way or in which he ended up as part of an orgy, because everyone would have wanted him in bed. His dreams hadn’t exactly gone anywhere else, so now that he was awake again, he was incredibly anxious and quite aroused, and very, very grateful that Sherlock had returned at all. 

The door opened and Sherlock carefully stepped into the living room, as if trying to make sure that he wouldn’t wake him up, should he be asleep, but his eyes found John immediately. He exhaled and straightened up. “You’re still awake,” he breathed.

“How was it?” John walked towards him, not sure whether he wanted to immediately get him out of the coat and touch him, or hug him tightly until he felt reassured that Sherlock hadn’t been hurt by the serial killer. 

Sherlock’s eyes roamed over John and he smirked, undoubtedly drawing his own conclusions from his posture, his clenched fists, his stiff back. But when he met his eyes he stepped forward and drew John into his arms, exhaling languidly. “You might have been just a little bit right,” he finally said against John’s neck. John shuddered, remembering the pointy edges Sherlock had attached to his incisors.

Sherlock chuckled. “Have you not recovered?” he asked amused, kissing John’s neck before he very carefully bit him. 

John felt gooseflesh rise on his arms and he stepped out of the embrace. “I’m not sure I ever will,” he said, shaking his head at Sherlock. “Tell me what happened!”

Sherlock cocked his head and then slowly unbuttoned his coat, keeping his eyes fixed on John’s the entire time. Instead of his naked chest, which John had expected to see first, he saw a white, intricately embroidered linen shirt. It was tucked into the high-waisted leather pants, making Sherlock seem dressed, even if somewhat improper. 

The legs were still naked down to his boots, but the shirt did work as a buffer. Sherlock still looked incredibly good like this, but not as indecent as he had. “Thank you!” John said, once he had found his voice again. “Where did you get the shirt from?”

Sherlock smiled and hung up his coat. Then he pulled said shirt out of his pants and suddenly he looked like the ‘just gotten out of bed’ version of the gloriously perfect vampire he had been earlier. His eyeliner was a little smudged and his lips had lost their inviting crimson colour. John huffed, then inhaled to say something, but words failed him. Instead he shook his head and kept looking at Sherlock, taking it all in. 

“It was downstairs, just in case you would find my original plan too … naked.”

John laughed and stepped closer again. “I did. I really did.”

“So, I took your advice and put it on. Nobody got to see me like you did. Like you wanted.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” John asked and lifted the shirt, running his hands over Sherlock’s stomach and then up to his chest, squeezing. Sherlock moaned quietly. 

“I hoped that it might excite you, after all.”

“I thought you might get murdered while tied to a bed.”

“I told you, it’s not his style on the first date.”

“I also imagined you sleeping with everyone at that party,” John admitted to Sherlock’s sternum. 

Sherlock stilled and then put his finger under John’s chin, forcing him to look up at him. “Say that again?” He bit his lower lip, causing his sharp teeth to dig into his sensitive skin. 

John’s breath caught. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how people would react to you. I was really, honestly scared that you might get killed, but at the same time, my brain just kept telling me than everyone at that party would have wanted to touch you.”

The smirk on Sherlock’s face made John growl. 

“You are not entirely wrong. The shirt apparently did not help as much as I had hoped.”

John laughed and fisted at the shirt, pulling Sherlock against him. For a moment, he rubbed his face against his chest, feeling the urge to crawl into him, to possess him and to make sure he would never, ever leave the house dressed like this again. But then he raised his head and kissed Sherlock, his tongue seeking out the sharp edges of his teeth, remembering vividly how he had come just from kissing Sherlock earlier. 

“Take it off,” he breathed against his lips. “Now!”

For the first time since he had returned – no, for the first time since he had stepped out of his bedroom looking like a fucking vampire prince – Sherlock looked bashful. All it did was make John want to possess him even more. He tried to control his breathing, but realised that it was in vain. His chest was heaving already and he was so hard he felt light headed. 

As soon as Sherlock began pulling at the shirt, John helped him, just on the edge of rough; just on the edge of ripping it off his body instead of taking it off properly. 

When the shirt hit the floor, Sherlock’s breath was equally fast. “What did you want me to do to you, earlier?”

“Hmm?” John’s hands slid across his chest, his stomach, his fingers finally undoing the first brass buckle.

“You wanted me to … do something to you. You did not plan to come in your jeans as you did.”

John barked out a laugh. “God, no, I did not.”

“So, what was it?” Sherlock licked his lips and opened the second buckle.

“On your knees,” John whispered, pushing Sherlock’s hands out of the way and opening the third. If he wanted to, he would now have enough room to push his hand into Sherlock’s pants. But he didn’t. Not yet. 

“Here?” Sherlock asked, his voice rough. 

“Hmm, yes,” John agreed and pushed down the pyjama bottoms he had put on after cleaning himself up earlier. He had washed his jeans, all the while imagining Sherlock sucking him off with those teeth. 

“What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t. Not more than necessary,” John said, stepping out of his pyjama bottoms. His erection was quite impressive. 

Sherlock dropped to his knees with a grunt and then pulled John closer by his arse, pressing a kiss to his cock. 

“No!” John pulled back a little. “Don’t be sweet, please. I need this.”

Sherlock’s eyebrows rose and he sat back on his heels for a moment before he got up again. “Don’t move!” he said and disappeared in the bathroom. A few moments later he returned, his makeup fixed and his lips crimson again. 

Instead of dropping to his knees like he had earlier, he very slowly lowered himself, keeping his eyes fixed on John’s all the while. Then he knelt, almost prettily, smiling up at him, making sure John could see the pointed teeth. John moaned and pushed his hands into Sherlock’s hair. “Do it,” he whispered, pulling him close. 

Sherlock managed to look aloof as he pulled John into his mouth; even a touch bored, when he let him slip out again, lapping at the head of his cock. But then he narrowed his eyes, focussing entirely on John’s cock, and, with blazing eyes, he drew him back between his lips, letting John feel his teeth this time. 

John whimpered and clasped his hair harder, feeling himself twitch against the roof of Sherlock’s mouth, so close again so quickly. Sherlock lowered the pressure a little and pulled back, grinning widely before he repeated the action, drawing back his lips this time so John could watch as he dragged his teeth along his length. 

This time it hurt, as Sherlock used more pressure, and it was just enough to keep John from coming. When Sherlock suddenly raised one hand and pushed it under John’s t-shirt, and up, finding a nipple and squeezing, John knew he was done for. 

Sherlock began sucking on his cock head, his teeth pressing into oversensitive flesh, his tongue pressing upwards and driving John mad with desire which he couldn’t really direct anywhere, one hand squeezing his left nipple while the other slowly closed around his cock, adding pressure just where it was needed. John wanted to warn him, but Sherlock knew he had been close and when John moaned loudly, doubling over, he pulled back and began stroking him, giving him the pressure he hadn’t known he needed to come properly, letting him spurt across his chest and neck, smiling up at him all the while, his tongue pressing up against one of the sharp teeth. 

John used Sherlock’s shoulders to hold himself up, keeping his eyes trained on his face, barely able to keep upright. After Sherlock stopped stroking him, he sunk to the floor and sat down in front of him, looking at Sherlock’s glistening chest. Some of his come had run down and soiled Sherlock’s pants and John reached out to wipe it off. To his surprise, Sherlock moaned loudly. 

It took him a moment to understand that maybe Sherlock was as affected by the situation as he was. Maybe he had meant for John to be this turned on. Maybe he had lived out a previously unknown fantasy just as much as John just had. John pushed his hand into the leather pants and found Sherlock very hard indeed. 

Opening the remaining two buckles, John pulled him out and began stroking him, causing Sherlock to throw his head back and arch his spine. He leaned forward and began sucking on his nipples, dragging his mouth across Sherlock’s shimmering chest. He tasted his own come and the body paint, and he could feel Sherlock strain against him. When he clasped his neck and forced him to move forward a little so he could kiss him, Sherlock moaned loudly and came, his hips snapping forward rhythmically, and John shuddered when he imagined Sherlock coming inside of him instead of just from a hand job. 

“Jesus, Sherlock!” John finally chuckled when he continued to shake and buck up, even though he was entirely spent. 

Sherlock licked his lips and rolled his shoulders, exhaling loudly. “This was nice,” he finally said and John kissed him. 

“Hmm, yes. Though I only now know what I really want.”

Sherlock sat back on his heels and looked at John. “Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me. Like this. Teeth and all. While you are still wearing your pants.”

“They are nice, aren’t they?” Sherlock wiped his cock and pushed himself back into the leather pants.”

“You had them made for you, haven’t you? Bespoke?”

“Well, yes. Did you think I would wear something like this that anyone else had worn before?”

John chuckled. “Of course not. I only wonder who measured you.”

Sherlock flashed him a grin. “I told them the measurements.”

“And the makeup? God, do you have any idea how good you look like this?”

“In theory, yes.”

“What does that even mean?” John touched his face gently, using his thumb to pull up the corner of his upper lip to expose one of the vampire teeth. “And these?”

“Theatre.”

“There’s costume, and then there’s this,” John shook his head, wondering how striking Sherlock would have been on the stage, back when he went to university and was a member of a drama group. John wondered how he would have gotten along with the other students. Whether he would have let himself be directed at all. 

“Well, I never wore this on stage.”

John laughed and kissed him. “No. They wouldn’t have allowed you to. Not like this. They would have closed you down for …”

“It’s not illegal to show skin on stage.”

“It must be illegal to be such a turn on,” John argued, squeezing a nipple. 

Sherlock huffed. “I will go and clean up. I don’t see how it’s fair that I am the one who’s all sticky.”

John got up and held out his hand to him. “Oh, it’s fair alright.”

Sherlock stood and looked down on him, his eyes weirdly bright in the weak light. “To have you look at me like you do,” he started, but then he sighed and moved away and was gone a moment later. John felt his heart in his throat. He put on his pyjama bottoms again and went into the bedroom. 

He turned on the lamps on either bedside table. Then he fluffed up the pillows, pulled back the sheets and put a condom and the lube on the middle of the bed. Because Sherlock was still in the bathroom, he went back and filled two glasses with water. He placed one on Sherlock’s bedside table and drank half of his own. Then he knocked on the bathroom door. “Sherlock? You okay?”

A moment later, the bedroom door opened. Sherlock had taken off the boots, washed off most of the body paint and come on his stomach and chest, and was currently trying to remove the one pointy tooth he hadn’t yet taken off. John felt slightly disappointed, but he also knew that Sherlock was being sensible. Once in bed, they would probably not get up again and no matter how sexy they were, he could understand that Sherlock would not want to sleep with them still attached to his teeth. 

“Do you need help?” he asked and in just that moment, the tooth came off. 

Sherlock ran his tongue along his teeth and sighed. “I know you wanted me to stay the way I was, but I really need to kiss you properly, without hurting you,” he said. Then he carefully placed the tooth extension into the small box where the other one already rested and prepared his tooth brush. “I promise to put them on again at some point. But not now. It’s almost 4 am and …”

“And?” John asked, kissing along his shimmering spine. 

Sherlock brushed his teeth quickly, washed his mouth, and reapplied the crimson colour. “For now, this needs to be enough.”

“I appreciate it,” John grinned and grabbed his own toothbrush. 

They were both much calmer when they finally switched off the bathroom light and John closed the bathroom door behind them. Sherlock chuckled when he saw the lube and the condom on the bed and he sat in the middle of the bed, opening the bottle and pouring some of the lube into his palm. Then, watching John closely, he opened his leather pants again and pulled himself out. His fingers closed around him and a minute later, he was hard again. John had watched breathlessly, and took off his pyjamas. Sherlock grinned and held out to tube to him. 

“Let me watch you,” he said, his voice liquid silver. John shuddered and poured lube onto his fingers. Then he leaned forward, effectively hiding what he was doing from Sherlock, but letting him see his face, and pushed a finger inside. His eyes were fixed on Sherlock’s erection, framed by the dark leather and the brass buckles and the pale skin of his stomach and legs. A second finger made him close his eyes for a moment. Sherlock’s groan made him open them again. John arched his back to be able to push in three fingers, his cock hard and twitching whenever he brushed his prostate. He knew Sherlock loved few things more than that. 

“Enough?” Sherlock asked, his lips stretching in a smirk. 

“See for yourself,” John challenged him, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on a tissue he plucked from a box on the night stand. 

“Come here, then,” Sherlock cocked his head and smiled sweetly. “And let me see.”

John climbed onto the bed and handed Sherlock the lube again. “I need to watch you.”

“Oh, I know,” Sherlock chuckled and pulled him into his arms. They kissed for a while, their hearts racing. Finally, Sherlock’s hands moved from John’s back down to his arse. He pulled him flush against his body and they both moaned shamelessly. Then Sherlock let his right hand wander lower and he pushed two long fingers into him without a warning. John felt himself twitch against Sherlock’s stomach while Sherlock grew even harder against his own. 

“Everyone there wanted you where I have you,” John whispered, grunting when Sherlock pushed in a third. “They all wanted to touch you. Be touched by you.”

“Maybe. Yes. After all, it was exactly what I was selling.”

“But they didn’t?” John felt himself break character, now that a real concern suddenly broke forth. 

“Oh no, they did not touch me. They wanted it. Some of them were willing to pay for it. Others were demanding it. And others yet tried to just do it. None of them did.”

“Not even the murderer?”

“Well,” Sherlock pulled out and instead took hold of John’s erection and began stroking. “He certainly wanted to. But he gave me his card instead. We have a date. Obviously, he won’t touch me. He might get to bind me, though”, Sherlock closed his fingers around John’s wrists and he knew he shouldn’t find it arousing, but right there and then, his body was unable to differentiate between arousal and fear.

“But you. You were with me all evening. Your eyes. The way you looked when you came. Such power,” Sherlock whispered, capturing his lips in a kiss. “The way you looked at me. I was … hard for you all evening. And they saw it.”

“Jesus! Sherlock!”

“I couldn’t help it!”

John lay down and spread his legs. “Fuck me.”

Sherlock simply smirked again and then pulled John closer and pressed his legs further apart until it almost hurt. Then he pushed into him, his eyes burning into John’s. 

John forced himself to breathe and relax enough to make it easy for Sherlock. The moment he was inside of him, Sherlock’s expression changed. Suddenly, he looked overwhelmed, and quite the opposite of the arrogant and self-assured sexy vampire. John firmly grasped his arse and squeezed. 

“Move, Sherlock!” he gasped, taking his own cock into his hand and beginning to stroke. “Come on!”

It took him a moment to recover, but when he did, John felt the effect immediately. Sherlock began to fuck him properly, one arm cradling John, while the other was in his hair, rubbing gently. His hips snapped forward, just the way John had imagined, burying himself deeply inside John. His lips found John’s nipples and he licked and sucked and bit him hard enough for John to imagine that he still wore those teeth. 

John wrapped his legs around his thighs and pulled him closer, encouraging him to go faster by squeezing his arse harder. Sherlock followed suit, moving his mouth to kiss John hard. “Surrender,” he whispered, biting John’s lower lip. “Surrender to me!”

For a moment, John wasn’t sure what he meant, but then he let go of his arse and let his arms fall against the pillow above his head, loosening is legs around Sherlock’s thighs, exposing his neck further to him.

Sherlock sped up, one hand closing around John’s wrist, pressing him to the bed while the other slipped between their bodies. 

A few strokes were enough to drive John over the edge. He bucked up, straining against the weight of Sherlock’s body on his, moaning loudly. Sherlock gasped, open mouthed, against his neck. “Come for me, John,” he grunted.

As if his voice had added fuel to the fire that was burning through John, Sherlock’s words caused John’s world to tilt and then it all came crashing down. He came hard, harder than he had expected, arching up against Sherlock’s unyielding body. 

Sherlock began sucking on his neck, using his teeth, drawing blood to the surface of John’s skin even as he shuddered at the sensation.

“Sherlock!” John gasped, his hands returning to his arse, squeezing hard. Sherlock shuddered and tipped over, desperately pushing into him, as deeply as he could. Again and again he pushed forward, almost driving them to the edge of the bed. Finally, strength left him and he collapsed on top of John. 

John hugged him hard and then caught his lips in a long, lazy kiss. “Fuck,” he eventually said. “That was incredible.”

Sherlock shuddered and pulled out of him, pulling the condom off and clumsily dropping it onto the tissue John had left on the nightstand. Then he lay down next to John and pulled him into his arms, not caring for John’s come on his stomach. “It was.”

“There’ll be paint all over,” John said amused when he looked at his palms. The colour on Sherlock’s back was now making his hands shimmer. 

“Indeed, John. Well observed,” Sherlock said sarcastically. Then he kissed him again and closed his eyes. John waited for a while until he was sure that Sherlock wouldn’t wake up again. Then he pushed him onto his back and opened the rest of the buckles on his pants. He very carefully pulled them off of him. Then he went into the bathroom to clean them, hoping that the water wouldn’t stain them too badly. He washed and then very gently washed Sherlock, too, as best as he could without waking him before he pulled him very carefully into his mouth until he could feel him grow hard again. Once he was satisfied with the result, he switched off the lights and pushed his back against Sherlock’s body, pulling his arm around his shoulders. 

He knew that Sherlock was always incredibly needy when he spent the night aroused. John had rarely resorted to tricking him into falling asleep with a hard on, but he had enough experience to know that, if it happened, Sherlock would want to touch him as often as possible on the following day, and he really wanted to turn the tables on the situation. He certainly didn’t have a serial killer waiting to bed and murder him, but he sure as hell would enjoy keeping Sherlock at arm’s length for the day until the moment he decided he wouldn’t anymore. 

He wriggled his arse a little and Sherlock tightened his arm around his shoulders. “I know what you are doing,” he murmured against John’s neck. John grinned and said nothing. Instead, he pushed harder against him one last time and fell asleep with a wide smile on his face.


End file.
